


Psychopomp

by siriusenthusiast



Category: One Piece
Genre: Grim Reapers, Humor, Near Death Experiences, Other, Roronoa Zoro Being an Idiot, a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusenthusiast/pseuds/siriusenthusiast
Summary: At Thriller Bark, Zoro is on the brink of death after the sacrifice he makes for the crew, but he somehow makes it through alive... what can be said for certain is sometimes getting lost is a good thing.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	Psychopomp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ni21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ni21/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to the lovely @ni21 for gifting me such a fun idea and just in time for Halloween. Make sure to check out her fics, they are brilliant xx

Excruciating pain, that was all there was.

Perhaps he was burning alive, or else being pulled apart limb by limb. He couldn’t feel his body anymore, there was no longer any distinction between his own flesh and the abyss of agony which he dove into, simultaneously enveloping and erupting from every inch of his being.

Was he dead? No, he couldn’t be. Death was painless, after all. Death was the final relief. The end he longed to embrace, that he would be screaming himself hoarse for, if he could use his voice at all. He had accepted death. Welcomed it even, if it meant their safety. If it meant they would live. He was ready for it, he understood.

Not that he didn’t have any regrets. Images of Kuina flashed intermittently through aching bursts. Fleeting moments where he thought finally, _finally_ he had died, before crashing right back in, drowning once more. He would see her again, at least. And he would apologize to her for not making it, for letting her down. For being too weak.

And then, after what felt like a lifetime of suffering, the pain was gone. He braced himself, wincing instinctively in preparation for another onslaught, but nothing came. He could feel his limbs again. He stretched out an arm, sensation flowing through his fingers anew. Was he alive? How could he be?

He sat up easily, noticing not only that the pain was absent, but his body was recovered too. No cuts, no bruises, no aches. It was like he had been erased of all injury, all affliction. This must be heaven, he thought. Which meant he was certainly dead. His battered body must have finally given up. It had succumbed to death, at last.

His eyes opened for the first time, focusing on the scene around him. It was dark. A thick mist concealed most of the flat landscape in front of him, but he could make out what looked like trees, their branches free of leaves and utterly lifeless. It occurred to him that the ground, well frankly the dirt, he was sitting on was quite cold. As if it had frosted over recently, like the last few days of autumn before winter settled in. If this was heaven or hell, he was severely underwhelmed. Where was he, exactly?

“You are at the crossroads,” said a voice from behind him.

He turned to see a tall, hooded figure standing to the back of him, the face imperceptible in the darkness. He was holding what looked like a scythe, which abruptly made him realize he no longer had his swords latched around his own hips. He immediately felt uncomfortably exposed.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, impatiently. He didn’t have time to waste. He had to get back to Luffy and the others or else make it to wherever people were supposed to go when they died. Surely, this was not it.

The shadowy figure huffed indignantly. “Roronoa Zoro, is it? Clearly, wherever you are from they don’t teach manners… but, to answer your question, I am, as you must already be suspecting, the Grim Reaper.”

“The what?”

A dramatic sigh sounded from the hooded form, “Yes, I know you must be in shock, but all of it is true. The folktales are all reality.”

“What folktales?”

“You know, the Grim Reaper, personification of Death and Collector of Souls…”

“Uh… no?” Zoro’s already thin patience was dwindling.

“Surely, you must have heard… The Pale Rider? The Angel of Dark and Light?”

Zoro simply stared at him blankly.

The shadow seemed visibly taken aback by this. “Well I must say, in all my years I have never gone unrecognized, but no matter. As I mentioned before, I must collect your soul, in order for you to advance, as they say, to the afterlife. Simply follow my lead.”

This did not clarify anything at all for Zoro. Yet, as he was still figuratively, and quite literally, in the dark, and even worse, without his swords; he resolved to follow the stranger wherever he meant to take him until he could get some more answers. 

* * *

No amount of souls in the world were worth escorting this hopeless fool, thought the Grim Reaper, as he wandered about once again searching for the green-haired boy who was apparently hell-bent on making his job as difficult as possible.

He had given simple instructions, follow his lead. But somehow the oaf managed to get lost _every single time_. He had even opted to give him the bottom end of his scythe to hold on to last time, to be absolutely sure he could not lose sight of him in the fog. Still, he had managed. He had turned around not a few minutes later to make sure the boy was still there, and he had vanished again.

Not to mention he had no idea who he was! Him, the Grim Reaper, the Angel of Death, the fourth horseman! It was unfathomable. In all his years in the role, he had never once, not once, failed to impress. He was always met with either fear or fascination. The prestige, the notoriety… it was what had inspired him to take the position in the first place. And it all meant nothing to that imbecile.

Finally, after walking almost all the way back to where they had come from, he spotted the boy sauntering on in the complete opposite direction they were meant to be headed.

“Where, may I ask, do you think you are going?” He yelled out to him, picking up his pace to catch up before he lost him once again.

The green-haired boy turned around, looking at him in bewilderment, “To the bridge, like you said. Did you get lost?”

“For heaven’s sake, the bridge is _that_ way, you blithering idiot!”

“Oh, is it? Why didn’t you say so from the start? Would have saved a lot of time…”

The Reaper sighed in exasperation and took a seat on a nearby rock. He couldn’t do this anymore. This definitely was not in the job description. Yes, he was responsible for escorting them, but he was not a babysitter by any means. Perhaps he could make a tiny exception, just this once. No one would know as long as he filled his weekly quota, and he never had any trouble doing that. Yes, he had decided. He would send him back.

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood up from his sitting position on the rock, “I’m sending you back.”

The boy looked at him in renewed confusion. “Back? What do you mean back?”

“I’m sending you back to Earth. There’s been uh,... a mistake. You’re not supposed to be here. Similar names, you know, it happens sometimes.” He presumed the boy would be stupid enough to believe such a poor excuse.

“So, what you’re saying is because of your dumb mistake, I’ve been wasting all my time here with you instead of being on Earth? Seriously, who hired you?”

“Oh, just shut up already,” retorted the Grim Reaper, as he swiftly lowered down his scythe, slashing in the opposite direction he normally would. The boy’s soul evaporated into nothingness and he exhaled in relief. 

Finally, some peace and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween :)


End file.
